Restless Movements
by kbeckett
Summary: Only love can still demon plagued dreams of a hero.


Restless Movements

By kbeckett

Disclaimers:

Harry, Hermione and the other characters and places from Harry Potter are © to JK Rowling etal – I am just playing in the sandbox. None of my characters are meant to resemble anyone living, dead or un-dead, if you see yourself you are looking way too hard. Canon?, but there will never be anything even remotely related to the events noted in the crapilogue in any of my stories. Set after graduation from Hogwarts.

Feedback:

Please. And thanks to all who have commented on previous efforts, I appreciate everything that was said. As before, all meaningful criticism, support and suggestions are welcome.

Another brief short story used as muse Drano to help me get back into the grove for Si.

* * *

The harvest full moon's brilliance, a deep blue-white due to the unseasonable cold, shone through the un-shuttered casement windows and helped to cut the darkness of the bedroom. The only other source of light in the large room was a small night-light, which did little to eliminate the shadows cast over the king-sized four poster bed which dominated the room.

The bed was occupied by two figures, entwined under duvets as if to protect from the cold; it was possible to discern that both had dark hair, but other details were not easily apparent.

One figure thrashed and turned as demon-filled dreams threatened to wake him; the other was still, arms wrapped around their partner's body with a hand resting on his chest.

The man began to thrash even more violently, the dreams were threatening to breakthrough from the deep sub-conscious into the conscious mind.

"_No!" the young man cried out as he saw his best friend cut down by a sickly-purple curse. He moved to where the body lay, bleeding from a three centimetre wide gash across the chest – a cut that ran from just under the left shoulder to just above the right hip. _

_He ran over and kneeled and desperately tried to stop the bleeding by holding his hands over the wound; but the cut was too large, too deep and there was too much blood. He rocked back on his heels, stunned, as he watched the blood pool on the stone floor, finally stopping as the body gave a last shuddered breath._

_He threw his head back and let out an inarticulate wail of sorrow as he processed the loss of another…_

The soft hand, even in the grip of Morpheus, was able to reach up and caress his weary brow and with those gentle movements stilled the violent movements and allowed him to settle into a deep sleep.

..~..~..~..~..

The windows rattled as a strong gust of wind struck the side of the house. As if that was a trigger the young man once again began to twist and turn. His sub-conscious was determined to give him no rest this night.

_The night sky was lit by bright flashes of colour as a multitude of curses flew. A small group of people crouched at the edge of a glade, in the slight protection offered by the trees behind them and a low screen of bushes in front. _

_The small group of seven paused as if evaluating the various ways they could come to harm. At an unseen sign the leader, a young man in his late teens, gestured to both his left and right; with that signal the group split off, three heading slightly to the left, three to the right while the leader slowly stood up to survey the fields in front of their position._

_Suddenly the sky was lit by a tremendous explosion as the trees, bushes, grass and even the earth where they stood erupted in a paroxysm of shredded vegetation and lethal splinters of wood and rock._

_The young man slowly stood up, his head ringing from the explosion. His left arm hung limply by his side, the bones having shattered. His right eye was swollen shut and he had countless cuts and bruises. In a panic he quickly looked around for his companions, however, he was unable to find them in the changed landscape, churned by violence and with a dusty haze obscuring his sight._

"_Fool," he heard over the fields. Looking towards the voice he saw a figure of malevolent darkness striding towards where he was standing using a careful, almost uncaring, pace. It was a man, perhaps, but a man with pale skin and snake-like features; a demon in the guise of man and the source of nightmares and death. To either side were others, all cloaked in black with bone-white masks covering their faces._

"_You have failed again," the being said, "yet again you have led you so-called friends into danger and death."_

_With a wicked laugh the man-demon gestured and lit up the night sky, illuminating the destruction and showing the six broken bodies, bodies which would never move again._

"_They have died in your name and you have failed in your quest to defeat me, and now it is your turn to die."_

_The man dropped to his knees as an incoherent scream ripped from his throat…_

Once again the soft hand reached up and gently caressed the man, her love, back to restful slumber.

..~..~..~..~..

Outside the house a strong storm suddenly sprung up; the earlier gusting winds a prelude to the strength of the upcoming tempest. Sheets of sleet and ice began to pelt the house, as the wind gained in power and began to bend the leafless boughs bringing their tips down to caress the ground.

Inside the bedroom the young man began to toss and twist, almost as if he was caught up in the threatening gale outside the rattling windows. His dreams were even more troubled, and it appeared as if the demons in his sub-conscious would win their war.

_A young boy running through dank dark tunnels, chased by a nameless terror which killed with a look…_

_Bodies lying like broken trees through a flame ravaged hall…_

_Shapeless forms gliding through a city, leaving husks of bodies behind their soulless eyes staring at nothing…_

_A house burning with un-natural fury, men standing around preventing the occupants from leaving as they laughed…_

_Beasts from the darkest realms of terror striding across battlefields leaving death and destruction in their wake…_

_A tall cloaked figure, miasma surrounding him, striding through offices, each gesture leading to a death; others follow behind destroying everything…_

_A man being cursed by others, pain wracking his body as he struggles to rise up and fight back against all those who would strike him down…_

_A woman stillness in death, her dull eyes shining with lost hope and the promise of unrequited love…_

_Bodies of children, none older than ten, broken and twisted; used in some foul rite to power those who would subject others…_

_Groups of people, herded like cattle, being driven into pens, driven to their destruction…_

With each tortured vision the young man tossed and shook, threatening to wake. With each movement the young woman was able to caress her soul-mate back to peace. However, with each more troubling and violent vision it became harder for her to still the movements.

Suddenly the man sat up in bed breathing rapidly and shallowly, unawake but with his deep green eyes widely staring into the gloom of the room.

Slowly he began to process the room, the storm and his breathing began to settle.

"You ok," the young woman asked as she turned and drew him back down into an embrace.

"Yes," he replied, "as always you were able to keep them from being too bad."

"Same as before?"

"Variations on a theme, you know this time of year is always bad."

The young couple sat in contemplation as they thought back over the years and of all the events, mostly dire, that had occurred at Samhain. They knew that his violent dreams would peak at this time of year and then settle back to a rare occurrence for the rest of the year. Dreams of what occurred, what may have occurred and what his sub-conscious imagined could have occurred; dreams that were used to torture him and rack him with guilt. Night terrors that failed to drive him into madness due to the love each had for each other.

They were startled by the simultaneous crack of thunder right outside their house, accompanied by a flash of lightning which brightly illuminated their room, along with the piercing cry of a baby from the nursery next to their bedroom.

"Your turn," the young woman commented processing the babies cry, as she snuggled back into the bedding to try to sleep

"Yes dear," he said as he swung his legs out of bed, "No point faking sleep since I have to bring Lily to you - since you have the feeding equipment, and I have to shutter the windows from the storm."

"I swear Harry that I will make sure you have the next one," the young woman said in mock exasperation as she sat up in bed and propped the pillows around her so that she would be comfortable feeding her daughter.

"Yes Hermione," Harry replied as he went to collect his first-born daughter, the demons that plagued him put to rest for another year. He hoped that in time they would diminish to a pale reminder of his struggles and that his future dreams would only be of hearth, home and family.

~..~..FINIS..~..~


End file.
